


The House

by Intergenre



Category: Original Work, The House - Fandom
Genre: Ghosts, Haunted Houses, Monsters, Skeletons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:41:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29248959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Intergenre/pseuds/Intergenre
Summary: She gazed up at the doors, blood red, and unmarked by the rain, she shouldn't want to go in, but she does, for reasons she can't explain
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Cross posted here, because why not
> 
> original
> 
> https://intergenre.com/f/the-house-1

Martha loved the rain, but it didn't make driving easy. The torrential downpour made her windshield almost completely useless. The wipers working overtime to try in vain to clear the glass. Her headlights shining into the fog and rain, only showing a small snippet of the road ahead. SO she barely had time to brake when she saw the tree in the road. The tires skidded, slowing down just enough to weaken the crash. She was flung against her seatbelt. She could see that the front of the car was dented. But she was more interested in the tree. Even with only the illumination of the cracked headlights, she could see it was massive. Even on its side, it was Taller than her car, and at least twice as thick. Looking, either way, she could see it stretching out on either side of the road. She couldn’t tell which way it fell from.   
Either way, there was no way she could even budge it, let alone clear the road. She switched to reverse and turned to look behind her, and lightning cracked, near enough for the thunder to rock the car, and in the instant of light it produced, she saw another tree blocking her path, just like the one before her.   
Her brow furrowed in confusion, as she looked back and forth between the two trees. She groaned and got out of the car, arms over her head as she ran to the new tree. She felt its trunk. As solid and real as any other tree. She looked around, trying to think of a plan when a flickering orange light caught her eye.   
It was beside the road, and she followed it. There, in the darkness, was a large black metal gat, topped with two flickering lanterns. She didn't know how she could’ve not seen it from the car. She rested her hand on it, the metal wet, but not as cold as it should be. It opened easily, revealing a black stone path, surrounded by hedges on either side, leading to a pair of blood-red doors.   
She moved quickly, the rain already seeping through her coat. She winced as she stepped in a deep puddle, feeling her shoe get soaked through instantly. She scaled the steps rapidly, nearly slipping, before reaching the entrance.


	2. Chapter 2

She looked up at the doors. They were massive, and a deep, blood red, and had two gnarled black handles. The rain slid down them, without leaving any trail on the dark wood. Above them was a skull, carved out of the stone, and it seemed to be looking down at her, watching. Rain dripping off the smooth surface. 

She heard a faint click, she glanced back and saw the faint outline of the black iron gates, now closed.

Turning back to the doors, she shivered, half from the rain, and half from the fear. she shouldn't want to go in, but she did, and not just because of the rain. She reached her hand forward, her hand grasping the cold metal, and pushed them open. They opened silently, and smoothly, like they had been oiled every day, and hadn’t been rained on for hours. They opened wide, allowing a perfect view of the room inside. It was a small foyer, masked in shadow, off to one side, was a stairwell, leading up into the darkness, along the other, a hallway, stretching forward. 

She stepped in out of the rain, the second her foot touched the rich, red carpet, the room was lit. Her head snapped upwards, and she saw candles, some lining the walls, and some on the small wooden table next to the stair, next to a black jack o lantern. Above her, was a dark metal chandelier, the candles in it glowing, flickering silently, as if they had been burning the whole time. Looking up at the now well lit walls, she noticed how clean it was, it didn’t look abandoned, the carpet was fresh, and pristine, the walls didn’t have a spot of dust, and no cobwebs adorned anything, the wood of the table and handrail was polished, and gleaming.

She shivered, even with the candles, she was soaked, her green wool coat doing little to help, and with the door open, the cold air could still get her. she took a few steps in, and the doors slid silently behind her, before closing with a booming thud. She whirled, heart racing. seeing the doors closed, she got a nervous feeling. “ they just closed” she said to herself “all kinds of doors do that.” 

She almost believed that. 

Hanging from a hook next to the doors, was a small lantern, when her eyes rested on it, it lit itself, casting a soft yellow glow. She slowly lifted it off of the hook. 

Turning to face the stairway, the light dimming and fading to black further on. She started forward into the darkness, the lantern lighting her way. She kept going, further into the darkness, before reaching another door of deep red wood. She reached for the doorknob. The door opened with a soft click, creaking open to show another dark hall, stretching either way into the darkness. 

She stepped into the new hall, and she heard something. Whispers at the edge of her hearing. She stopped to listen, and she heard something else. Footsteps. On the floor above her, thick, and heavy. Followed by a burst of laughter, starting high pitched and insane, before slowing, and deepening. Reverberating through the house. 

Then there was a deadly silence, followed by a notable creak, she turned back and saw the front doors open into the rain. Offering her a way out. She started to head back, but once she reached the door, she paused. she somehow knew if she left, she would never be able to return, and something called to her, inside the house, deep within. Somewhere. 

She reached out, grabbed the handle, and after a short pause, closed them with a heavy thud. 

A short wind blew around her, and all the candles flickered. There was a number of creaks above her, and another set of whispers.

She steeled herself, held the lantern up, and started up the stairs. Into the darkness, towards something, she didn’t know what.

The whispers started again, approving, and satisfied. The portraits that stared with disapproval now smiled, the rain pounded on the roof harder, filling the air with its muffled sound. 

The Lantern rattled, unable to contain its excitement.


	3. Chapter 3

She peered around the dark kitchen, her lantern light reflecting off a distant mirror. After a moment she continued, following the scent to a large fridge. Black gleaming metal reflecting her hungry eyes. She gently opened the door, a soft golden glow illuminating the inside. There it was, the source of the smell, a platter of sliced ham, moist and tempting. Her mouth watered at the sight, and, after a cursory glance around, she took a slice. She licked her lips, and her stomach growled.

And the reflection of her lantern moved. 

She froze, and she realized it wasn’t a reflection. The hand on that lantern was larger than hers and had not a single inch of skin upon it. It crackled as it gripped the lantern, and something began to rise from behind the counter.

She spun around in a panic, her eyes landing on a cabinet against the wall. Quickly and as quietly as possible, she snuck into it she turned down her lantern and closed the door, leaving just a sliver to look out, to see what was in here with her.

Its back was to her, shrouded in a red cape, it towered over the counter, its own lantern held in a tight skeletal grip. 

It moved, out of her field of vision. She held her breath, listening to its footsteps, harsh against the tile. The footsteps faded, and she allowed herself to start breathing again.

CRACK!

Its foot came crashing down, just outside the cabinet. Bare skeletal toes gripping at the porcelain squares. 

Its head was made of bone, but not a skull, more like a mask, with the visage of a wolf. It sniffed at the air, as it looked around the kitchen, its empty sockets having twin pinpricks of yellow light. IT growled, a sound of bones grinding, and stormed out of the room, its cape flowing behind it as it shoved the door open, disappearing down the hall.


End file.
